Just Shorts a Drabble collection
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: This a place where I shall put starts of stories and if they get enough love ie comments saying that readers would want more of that particular story I'll write and post more... I have cross posted (I think I'm using that right) this to AO3
1. Did I Grab the Wrong Pipe?

**Author's Note!**

**If you like any of these shorts please leave a comment and if you would like to see them continued**

When Gandalf awakens to see a hay roof above his head he isn't sure how to react. He is a Wizard so panicking is out of the question... But how did he go from being on the road to being in a bed? He stands a little disturbed to see that he had been redressed in what looked like Shepherd's gear. His staff thankfully hadn't been messed with as it was leaning against a table. Carefully exploring what little there is in his new abode he smiles at the small plate of food left on the table for him. He eats it happily before grabbing his staff and heading outside... No... Nope... Not happening.

Taking a deep breath he: re-enters the small hut, closes the door, takes a deep breath closing his eyes, bangs his head slightly on the door and opens it. The sight doesn't change and he wonders if maybe he grabbed the wrong pipe tobacco because in various stages of movement or non-movement are thirteen dwarf like sheep and one hobbit sheep. And by dwarf like sheep he means, small, smaller than normal even, humanoid sheep. From their necks to just below their private parts, from their knees to their feet, from their elbows to their hands is covered in silky white wool. Where their ears should be is the soft most definitely sheep like ears! But the rest of their head is dwarf or hobbit. And they weren't just any thirteen dwarrows and singular hobbit; oh no they are the thirteen dwarrows and singular hobbit he led to Erebor. It is impossible because he knows that three of them died in regaining their home!

Yet there is: Dori and Nori and Ori and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur and Balin and Dwalin and Oín and Gloín and Thorin and Fílí and Kílí and Bilbo! He wonders slightly if now would be a good time to panic because he is sure that discovering you have awoken in an alternate universe possible caused by drugged pipe tobacco where your friends, even if they are _dead,_ are sheep is reason to panic! But before he can go into a full out panic attack like which he hasn't done since he was a child the Bilbo sheep rushes up to him a smile on his face.

"Shepherd Gandalf! You're awake! Good morning!"

A smile appears on his face at the energy he hasn't seen Bilbo possess since he was a young Fauntling. He opens his mouth to give his usual response to being 'good morning'd' when the Thorin sheep walks over to them, still gruff and grumpy looking all while being kingly, he gives Gandalf a look and proceeds to place a possessive arm around the Hobbit Sheep who blushes.

"Shepherd Gandalf... Dis and the others are still resting in the barn but they should be along presently."

Valar even sheep Thorin speaks in clipped to the point ways. Very nobly holding back a sigh he nods his head to acknowledge what was said. How many more sheep did he have!? Oh Valar he hoped there wasn't many... He is a wizard not a shepherd! What did Dwarf Sheep eat? Did Hobbit Sheep still eat seven meals a day? Would they go into heat? He shudders at that thought. Spotting a chair that is much too tall for the Sheep to sit in he goes and sits down before he pulled a Bilbo, who followed him over to the chair just so you know. Thorin followed Bilbo glowering all the way. Resting his head against the back of the chair he gazes up at the blue sky.

He feels very torn about all of this. He should be wondering Middle Earth insuring that nothing dark or evil is able to spawn but here he is instead, enjoying the fact that all his friends are alive.

"Shepherd Gandalf!"

The young voice draws him out of his thoughts and he looks down to see that Ori has joined Bilbo and Thorin at his side. Not too far behind the youngster are both Dwalin and Dori... Is Balin... _No,_ he tells his brain sharply _you are not going there just like you are not going to notice the looks Dwalin is giving Ori._ He mentally shakes himself trying to rid his mind of those thoughts. He smiles down at Ori.

"Why hello there Ori. How are you this morning?"

Ori blushes slightly and scuffs his toes.

"Dwalin took me to the fence today... We went to Rhadaghast's fence line not Saurmons."

"Oh?" he didn't understand the significance of that but who was he to deny the boy his moment, for he was most definitely was having one. Ori nods his head excitedly and Gandalf feels more at peace at being here. Fílí and Kílí are the next to approach him. Kílí is talking excitedly about something and Fílí smiling bemusedly.

"And I was like Legalos I am so better than you with a bow and he was like nuh uh and we got out our bows and had a contest and I would have won if Gimli hadn't startled me!"

He chuckles softly.

"And what did you do to Gimli?"

"We didn't do anything!" they exclaim innocently. Gandalf huffs, he doubted that very seriously but Bofur rushes up to him all smiles, his hat almost falling off if the hand holding it on is any indication…_Why is he wearing a hat?_

"Guess what Shepherd Gandalf! Bombur's wife, Wina, she says she's with another! Oh joyous days!"

"Is that so? And what does that bring the total up too?"

"Ten!"

Gandalf valiantly doesn't notice the way Nori's eyes devour poor unsuspecting Bofur's body and congratulates him. Bilbo, Ori and Kílí surround Bofur happily chatting with him. Dori even actually approaches the group to congratulate the soon to be Uncle. The happy chatter about children soon turns to gossip and like old maids they move away to do so where few can hear them. Gandalf chuckles slightly at that. He's slightly surprised when Balin, Dwalin and Nori join Thorin and Fílí standing next to him. They all heave a sigh and look longingly at them.


	2. Merry, Merry, Where are You?

**AN:**

**Same as last chapter! Comment if you like and let me know if you want me to coninue**

For the longest time Merry and Pippin have heard that they remind others of two dwarven princes. Two princes that have long since passed from the world of living. It hurts Pippin's heart when he thinks he causes his friends pain, for Bilbo had known them on his adventure, Gimli had grown up with them and though he hadn't known them long Legalos was also fond of the princes. Merry preened every time he was likened to the lion prince. Pippin looks over at his cousin and Heart. It had been a few years since Frodo and Bilbo had sailed across the ocean, life in the Shire it just wasn't the same for them. Sam... poor Sam pretends to love another while his Heart is far beyond his reach. Rosie, Rosie knew but she loved Sam and their children dearly. But the Shire life wasn't the life for Merry and Pippin, not anymore. So they packed up and left, they helped humans with small skirmishes here and there. Pippins sighs softly curly chestnut hair covering gray eyes as he rests his head against his knees. Deep within his soul he feels as if something is wrong, something is going to happen and it scares. He doesn't want to leave Merry and he doesn't want Merry to leave him.

"You're thinking to loud over there Pip."

Pippin chuckles softly raising his head from his knees.

"What a horrid thing to accuse me of. Thinking indeed," he tries to joke but it falls flat and Merry sits up blue eyes worried. Pippin gently traces Merry's face molding himself into his side.

"I have a bad feeling Merry, a very bad feeling."

Merry holds on to him tightly kissing his head gently.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

They stay curled up within each other's embrace until their stomachs start to protest. Merry kisses Pippin soundly as the younger slips out of the bed. Today they are going to be escorting a trader's caravan from Bree to a settlement close to where Rivendale use to be. He wishes he could see the elves again, they were nice and didn't judge him as the humans and fellow Hobbits did for loving Merry but they're gone now. Deep in memories of the past Pippin makes breakfast, not anything grand like a Hobbut would have in the Shire but simple and filling.

A pair of arms circle his waist and a head rests on his shoulder. Hands rub his stomach in an empty measure, no matter how hard they tried... Pippin mentally shakes his head away from those thoughts. It wouldn't do to dwell on sad things on an already ominous day. Merry helps him dish up the meal of eggs, bacon and toast before sitting down, pulling Pippin on to his lap. His Heart seems to pick up on his subtle thought for he kisses his neck.

"Yavanna will bless us soon. We saved Middle Earth; surely she will gift us with a child. Sam has four now don't he."

"Aye he has four children and a broken heart. Perhaps the children are the Green Lady's way of saying sorry."

Merry sighs softly.

"Pip..."

"I'm sorry."

"No it's alright... You know we have some time before..." Merry wiggles his eyebrows making Pippin giggle.

"Bed. The table leaves the most awful bruises on my back," Pippin whisper nipping at Merry's ear. With a loud laugh Merry stands carrying his lover to the bedroom. Today may just be a good day after all, is Pippin's last though before the ability to think is taken from him. If only they stayed in bed.

Later that day as they lead the caravan through the woods, pausing at the three trolls so they can boast about knowing the Hobbit that helped turn them so they are attacked. Not by bandits like normal but by orcs. Horrid memories pass through each Hobbit's head as they strive to keep the cursed things from the merchants who did not know how to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin plus the four armed human gaurds of the caravan fight hard. Pippin with his small blade that he was given in Gondor slices any Orc that gets too close to him or Merry, his hesitance of killing is still there but his determination to protect overruled it just as it had during that battle. Merry fights hard, he had recieved a replacement blade after he healed enough from stabbing a Nasghoul and it serves him well. He turns to check on Pippin a cheeky grin on his face. Pippin smiles back at him and then a sound that will always haunt his nightmares echoes. The sound of an arrow hitting flesh. He looks down and stares in shock at the arrow protuding from his chest. Another arrow hits and he goes down faintly hearing Merry yelling his name.

The sounds of battle dim and all he can see are blue eyes and blond hair. He coughs blood dribbling down his chin. Merry clutches him tightly, rocking back and forth.

"Stay with me Pip, don't you leave me. You can't leave me Pip..."

Shakily he raises a hand to place it on Merry's heart.

"I'll always... be here... Merry."

And the world goes black.

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When Pippin wakes up it's to green leaves and whispered words. He frowns slightly as he takes in the canopy, it's not like the leaves of the forest he was... Merry! He jolts up with a gasp looking for his lover only to met with the sight of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. A hobbit that isn't his Merry. His heart thunders as he scrambles away from the strange dwarves his hand going for his sword only to notice with a falling heart that it wasn't there. The hobbit steps forward hands up soothingly as the dwarves behind him shift, their weapons already in their hands.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you," the other hobbit soothes and the voice rings a bell from deep within his memory. A soft chest that rose up and down, the voice would crack on parts of the story he was telling and as time went by the voice began to echo its passage.

"Would you mind telling us your name and how you got to be here?"

Pippin shakes his head slightly, not seeing the frown marring the dwarf closest to the hobbit.

"This isn't possible. It isn't. This must be a dream, a cruel dream brought on by my injuries," he mutters backing farther away. The hobbit before him can't be Bilbo, it can't! He watched him board the ship to the undying lands! Plus he is as young as Pippin maybe older... Nope not possible those orc arrows must have had something on them.

"How does he know your name Bilbo?" the gruff question jolts him out of his thoughts.

"Did I say that all out loud?" He asks, his voice squeaking. One of the dwarves, the one with white hair and split beard, chuckles.

"You did indeed laddie. Now how do you know our burglar?"

Gray eyes watch the hobbit before him warily, he said injuries yet he could see none on him. The boy shakes his head rapidly and sits down holding his head.

"This isn't real..."

Biblo sits next to the other hobbit and gently rubs his shoulder which only makes the other sob.

"You can't be Uncle Bilbo. You can't, cause that means I'm dead and this is the afterlife and I've left Merry... You can't," he whispers leaning into the others touch. Bilbo frowns softly as he hugs the crying hobbit.

"You're not dead. You are nice and warm and very much alive. It's not very fair that you know my name but I don't know your now is it? It is also very ill-mannered that you haven't introduced yourself," he scolds softly and he is rewarded with a chuckle. He's given that lecture to a certain young cousin of his many a times when he gets excited. He notices the dwarves getting closer to him shakes his head slightly. It wouldn't do to scare the poor dear.

"Pippin at your service."

Balin sees the homesick look that crosses Bilbo's face at the name and frowns.

"So Pippin what were you doing before you woke up here?" His cousin had a habit of sleep walking if he remembered correctly.

"Me and Merry were escorting a caravan. The merchants wanted the 'brave heroes of Rohan and Gondor' to be with them hoping we'd scare off any bandits... Should have known something would go wrong. I could feel it," Pippin whispers softly. The dwarves lean in to hear him "It was going so well, we were even ahead of schedule so we stopped at the stone trolls. Whenever we go that way we like to stop there and reenact the story... We were ambushed... Not by bandits but by orcs! They shouldn't have been there, they should have been dead..." a hand clutches where the first arrow hit him "We were outnumbered... Six against many. Two hobbits and four humans... But we were winning then, thwap. An arrow hitting me then another thwap... and Merry is begging me not to leave."

Pippin shudders slightly and the dwarves share looks of confusion.


	3. Bofur's Babies

Bofur smiles gently at the dwarfling on his lap, she is small with long black hair and stunning green eyes. She is one of the four dwarflings he is now the proud parent of. The small, treasured darlings came to him through unforeseen events. Ingail, the girl on his lap looking up at him expectantly, never knew either of her parents. An orphan from the very beginning, how she survived he'll never know. He found her scrounging around a human town he's forgotten the name of, it broke his heart and he took the steps necessary to adopt her. It was hard on her, he think, leaving the only town she ever knew to travel with him. When he returned to Erebor Bombur was ecstatic, showing off his new niece like he was the father. The news spread fast that he adopted a child and one morning, he was itching to leave and contemplating if it would be wrong to go on another caravan leaving Ingail with her Uncle Bombur and Uncle Bifur. When he opened the door he found little Helg standing there, a note in his hand explaining that his father couldn't take care of him anymore. Bifur stood behind him, he was prepared to guilt trip his cousin into staying if he had to, smiling as he took the somber dwarfling into his arms. His desire to run left him as he held the little one and Ingail came down for breakfast. Soon Helg was adopted and added to his family. Helg, a year younger than Ingail but just as smart is very quite, hardly speaking a word. He has gray eyes that light up when ever Bofur tells him stories and sits him on his lap to braid the short dark brown hair he has.

One of Bofur's fears after they took over Erebor and before his children came to him was that everyone would know his name and he wouldn't have a moment of peace. While he doesn't have peace, peace is a dream when you have children, he wasn't mobbed like he thought he was going to be. In fact Bifur and him faded into the background, the survival of the King and his Heirs over shadowed a pair of two makers. Not that they cared, they were happy that their King survived and that they weren't mobbed. Bombur is the only one of the three that got a lot of attention, mainly because he is the personal cook to the Royal family. In fact it was three weeks after Helg came into his life that a friend of Bomfurs asked him to babysit his twins, Rornic and Rodnar. Their father was going to return to Ered Luin to retrieve the rest of his family. He hasn't came back, it's been three years with no news what so ever and the boys have been adopted by him. The twins are two years younger than Helg and they are almost as devious as Fili and Kili. Rornic is the eldest twin with red hair and blue eyes, Rodnar is the youngest dwarfling with black hair and blue eyes.

Ingail pulls on his shirt impatiently.

"Momma Bofur! You're supposed to be telling us a story!" she reminds him and he wants to groan. All it took was Bifur calling him a Mother Hen once for all his kids to start calling him Momma.

"Right. Now which story did ye want?"

"The one where the Burglar saves his friends from the Trolls!" Rodnar squeaks. Bofur chuckles and launches into the tale, arms waving around. The dwarflings hang on his every word, eyes wide in wonder. With his babies around the ache in his heart is easier to ignore, the itch to leave goes away and he feels content.


	4. Another Bofur Ficlet

Bofur smiles sadly as he sits in front of the window. His eyes are empty, no sadness or happiness present. He is empty as his hands absent mindedly carve figures from wood. He's always had a gift for bringing an image from the wood quicker than others and it still be absolutely beautiful. He looks over at his little brother and he feels like sobbing, they are alone now... Mother... Father... both gone and they are so alone. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to help his brother who felt horrendous pain. Looking down at his hands he sees that he has finished his toy, a small wooden figurine of their mother. Sitting it aside he picks up another piece of wood and starts again. Bomfur is stirring when he finishes the toy, this time a figurine of Father. A smile graces his lips and gathering up the other toy he walks over to his brother who is clutching their father's hat tightly.

"Hey Bombur... I made these for you..."

Bombur looks at the figurines and a smile lights his face making Bofurs heart feel light. With gentle finger Bombur takes them, he looks up at his big brother and sees though he is smiling it doesn't reach his eyes. So with a lot of bravery on his part he places their father's hat on Bofur's head.

"Thank you."

A true smile lights Bofur's face and he pulls his brother into a hug.

Bofur felt like crying. It wasn't fair! Bifur had taken them in when they had nothing, him and his One. They had two children of their own to take care of too. Why was Mahal so cruel? Why did they have to them away from Bifur, from Bombur who had started to talk again, from him?! In cruel irony he sits yet again in front of a window, wood and his knife in his hands. They are lost thanks to those damn goblins, to those damn orcs. He doesn't notice when he finishes his first figurine, doesn't hear Bombur calling him to eat, he just carves. He feels heavy and he doesn't know how much more loss he can take.

Bifur wants to join the group of dwarrows intent on hunting down the raid that took his lover and children. Bofur thinks that Bifur hates the fact that they, Bombur and him, lived while his One, his Ionu, and his children did not. He finishes the second figurine and he comes to the destructive realization that Bifur might not want them anymore causes the tears he been holding back to fall. He hates crying, hates feeling sad, his mother never cried she always laughed. So he tries to always laugh, to smile just like she did. He puts down the third figurine he is working on and hunches over to sob. Faintly he feels someone wrap him in a hug. He clings to the warmth of the one holding him, dimly he realizes that it is Bifur, Bombur is bigger than both of them. He hears his cousin whisper into his ear that he won't leave them alone again, that he will be back.

He finishes the last figurine right as Bifur goes to leave. Bombur blocks the door knowing what he wants to do. Grabbing Bifer's hand he places the figurines in the palm.

"Now you'll have them no matter where you go."

Bifur smiles and clunks their foreheads together.

"Thank you."

And then he leaves, when he comes back he's not himself but he came back that is all that matters. So even though he is now the head of the family he thinks he can handle it because he has his family.


	5. The One That Started it All

Blood pours onto the ground pooling in an ever growing puddle around a limp hand. Hazel eyes stare blank and empty into the sky. Once curly chestnut colored hair is now dark and dirty sticking to a pale face and neck. Bright crimson stains clothing. Held tight in deaths grasp is a short elven blade shining blue. Thirteen dwarrows fight on not noticing that their burglar is unmoving. Then a young dwarf with red hair stumbles over the body. Eyes widen in shock and a shrill scream escapes his lips. His brothers rush to his side killing the orcs who try to strike him. Looking over a dwarf with thick gray streaked black hair feels his heart stop at the sight. Blue eyes deaden slightly and he increases his efforts. Soon all the orcs are dead and the company morns the loss of their hobbit. Not moments ago he was alive, joking, laughing, talking to them... now... The three youngest dwarrows sob loudly at the loss and Bofur falls to his knees feeling the loss of a dear friend.


	6. Dreams Aren't Always Happy

Bilbo pretends to sleep every night. He closes his eyes but he never sleeps. Sleeping is his true fear, he feared sleeping more than Wargs, more than Dragons, in fact there is nothing he feared more than sleep. While others had sweet dreams or cruel nightmares or even the blessed nothingness of pure and deep sleep he, he dreamnt of things far scarier then nightmares. Scarier because deep down in his soul he knew that it was the truth. Truth from long ago but still the truth. So Bilbo pretends, pretends to sleep, pretends to be grumpy when woken, he's done this since he was a small Fauntling. When he was young, when he was small his dreams were horrid and scary. All around him people, dwarves, men, elves, even hobbits are fighting. He's in the middle of it all. He can feel the desperation, the need to get _somewhere_, to save and protect _someone _only to be struck. He falls onto his back and stares up into a face clouded by pain and knows that this is his death. Yet before the sword can fall and take his life he is awoken by his mother, she's always crying, begging him to come back to her, to not leave her _oh Eru don't take her Bilbo _and his father will be clutching at his wife confusion in and fear in his eyes as he holds her.

As he grew older the dreams shifts, they still show things that end horribly but at times they show happy things. He hates the happy dreams because he doesn't want to wake up and fears he will sleep forever. His fear isn't ungrounded, once he slept a whole week, a whole week of being happy in his dreams that ended with a scream. He shivers slightly, not from the cold but from the mere memory of how that dream ended, he wouldn't let his mother out of his sight for a long time. _You can't leave me! No! I won't let them have you! You can't leave me and Papa, you can't. Please don't momma. Please don't leave me._ Someone to his left shifts and he stills, his face going blank. He doesn't want his traveling companions to know. His eyes open when he feels a body move closer to him and his vision is filled with dark hair. A smile makes its way onto his face as he shifts so that Kili can get comfortable next to him. It's not long after Kili settles that his brother cuddles next to him. Bilbo pets his blond hair and for once wishes he can dream, dream and be normal like _his_ Fili and Kili... Though they aren't _his_ anymore. It doesn't matter, they will never know of his dreams filled with laughing children and a smiling dwarf who holds him as if he is a great treasure. They will never know of the horrid ends they met, never know that he saw two of his loves start to fall before he was brought down. Never, not if he has any say over the matter.

Thorin watches as the halfling twists and turns. Oin had noticed that he never truely slept but dozed and spiked his drink with a sleeping tonic. Beside him his sister-sons share looks of apprehension. They agreed that Bilbo needed sleep but they didn't like seeing him distressed.

"Thorin are you sure it was a good idea?" Kili asks his hand twitching when he sees tears flowing from the closed eyes.

"I don't think he'll feel very rested with all his twisting." Fili adds though he frowns when he hears words flow from the hobbit's mouth that isn't Westron. In fact it sounded like a mix between Khadzul and Sandrin. From the corner of his eye he sees Bifur focus on _their_ hobbit. He gestures wildly and Bofur looks scared as he shouts:

"Quickly wake him!"

Kili doesn't need to be told twice. He dashes to Bilbo's side and shakes him. Dark eyes blink open and Bilbo gasps for breath before he breaks down crying in Kili's arms. Thorin looks over at Oin hoping he may have an idea of what's going on but he just shakes his head. Bifur crouches down next the crying hobbit that is now nestled between Kili and Fili. Bofur is translating what his cousin is saying his eyes worried. Bilbo is shaking his head and clutching tighter on to Kili and Bifur grimaces slightly before he ruffles the chestnut hair.

He doesn't know how it happened but he dreamed. Oh Eru, he dreamed and it wasn't even the pleasanter ones, it was the one from his youth. He clutches on Kili, wishing, hoping that it would be another but taking great comfort that it is him. The sword, the sword that takes his life had gotten closer than it ever had before. He had been able to see the delicate runes that etched the sides, had been able to feel the blood from previous victims drip onto his face. He shudders violently. Not only had he dreamed his worst dream, the ones he know thought of as his family had witnessed it... Would they ever look at him the same? His mother told him that she could tell which dreams he was having by what he spoke and how he twisted in his sleep. Looking up at Bifur he see fear and concern. They wanted to know what he dreamed, they wanted to know something he never told anyone. He wasn't going to say, he wasn't. It is bad enough that he is plagued by them, bad enough that they now know of them. He wasn't going to burden them.

"Bilbo lad, from what Bifur says what happened tonight can happen any night. What if you fall ill? How will we know when to wake you?" Bofur asks him softly and Bilbo wants to shrivel up and die.

"Mister Boggins we won't poke fun at you, if that's why you ain't telling us."

"Honest Bilbo."

He shakes his head yet again but freezes when he yawns, his crying tired him out worse than he thought.

"They aren't always as bad as this one... Momm... Mother always said she knew when it was bad enough to require waking when I Stopped twisting and just begged... Or when I went still. Those where the worst for her... the ones where I didn't cry or speak. Said it was like I wasn't even breathing... What's funny is those are the nice ones..." he whispers softly. Around him he feels the camp freeze and he knows that they've all heard.

"Do you ever sleep?" a voice asks and dimly he connects the voice to Ori. Dear, sweet, kind Ori.

"Not willingly."

He doesn't see Thorin and Oin flinch at those words, doesn't see how Gandalf's brow furrows slightly.

"Don't worry, we've got you now. We won't let anything happen to you," Fili and Kili both whisper that as they get comfortable. they wouldn't be sleeping tonight not soundly like they normally did when they were by the burglar. Bifur walks over to Thorin and mentions Gandalf over.

"_You speak Elf yes?_" he asks briskly once Gandalf is near. When the wizard nods Bifur looks relieved.

"_I could understand part of what he said but not the Elvish bit._"

"What did he say?" Thorin asks irritated.

"_I will not repeat everything but he was taunting somethin' or someone. Tellin' them they wouldn't touch his boys..."_

"The Sandrin bits are much the same. He is in a battle of some sorts and he is trying to rally his troops. Then it changes to him begging for someone to stand up."

Thorin gazes over at the hobbit who is currently petting his nephews heads, trying to lull them into a sleep.

"Why was it so important to wake him?"

Bifur looks at Gandalf who sighs softly.

"Many believe that if you die in your dreams you die in real life. If he is having the dreams I believe him to be having then it is an absolute certainty that if you don't wake him quickly he will indeed perish... And not just from the bad ones."

"_Aye. With the good ones he will waste away refusin' to leave. Some dreams are too nice to leave._"

Thorin frowns slightly watching as the hobbit yawns, a brief look of fear flashing across his face, then his face goes slack and eyes close. He once heard of a dwarf who dreamed of his past, he would call out to people he once knew but no longer knew... He shudders as he remembers the fate of that dwarf... The dwarf couldn't handle both sets of memories.


	7. Mr Bilbo

Bilbo knows he isn't the most interesting person in the world; he hardly ever leaves his home much less the small village he lives in. But at night he dreams the most perfect dreams ever. The land he travels is beautiful and while they are coarse and gruff his company is the most entertaining people he had the privilege of knowing. Sure some nights his dreams are more like nightmares, battling fierce creatures, avoiding being crushed by rocks, falling down deep holes, nearly being burned to death and that great final battle but in the whole he loved it. So he sits in his study typing up his marvelous adventures chuckling at some parts. His book would never be published... At least not in The Shire. They wouldn't approve of the same sex relations depicted in it much less the relationship between the two brothers... and boy was that an awkward dream. Giving three young dwarrows 'the talk' because they have over protective family members was nerve wracking! He was sure Dori or Thorin would appear out of nowhere to strangle him in attempt to keep the three young dwarrows oblivious. Thankfully neither did but he swears that Nori sent him a thankful look afterwards.

A soft smile comes onto his face as he pulls up the document with all of his party member's descriptions in it. Thirteen dwarrows and one wizard, plus the elves they met along the way and Bard and Boern of course one mustn't forget about them. Oh how he wished he could draw then he could have illustrations to with his story. Maybe someday he will allow someone to read bits of the story to draw it for him.

He closes his eyes and visualizes them, Gandalf tall and wise with long white hair dressed in gray robes and a pointy blue hat. Dwalin part of his head bald with Khadzul runes inked into his skin, beard brown; a serious dwarf but he could be very sweet his blue eyes lighting with a smile even if his lips never did. Balin, Dwalin's older brother, the only dwarf that didn't tower over him, a cheery disposition and tough negotiator all in one with white hair and beard and kind brown eyes. Fíli and Kíli... His heart clenches thinking of those two. So young so devious. Fíli the older brother with wild golden hair much like a lion and blue eyes so much like his uncle's. Kíli so sweet, so unsure of his place because he wasn't the heir and couldn't seem to grow a proper beard with his dark hair, much like his uncle's, and brown eyes. Dori, the eldest of the 'Ri brothers, had a kindly face with blue eyes and white hair, they would sit for hours discussing tea. Nori, the middle 'Ri brother with his odd red star shaped hairdo and ever shifting gray eyes, took time to show him just how to be a burglar ever thankful that Bilbo never judged him. Oh little Ori! Ori with his light red hair and brown eyes that conveyed his curiosity over everything. Then there is Óin, the healer and very deaf dwarf with gray brown hair and brown eyes, he was a very patient dwarf who constantly tutted over any and all wounds they obtained. Glóin who always waxed poems over his wife's beauty and his son, Bilbo often wondered if Gimli shared his father's hidden poet along with red hair and brown

Then there was the 'Ur brothers. Bofur the kind toymaker that befriended him first, his brown eyes always sparkled with mischief his short brown hair hidden away by that hat he always wore. Bombur, sweet, shy, nervous Bombur who he would sit for hours talking about recipes who could blush as red as his hair whose gray eyes would dart up to meet yours before darting away. Their cousin Bifur who had an axe head buried in his own, the wild black hair, the beard was more white than black, not hiding it from view and those gray eyes held such tenderness when he was talking to his cousins. Bilbo often wished he was born dwarf so he could understand the ancient Khadzul that Bifur spoke. And finally there is Thorin. His heart breaks as he remembers Thorin. He looked taller than he was because he walked with dignity. Long flowing dark brown hair with gray sprinkled in, those imposing blue eyes that could drill into your soul, the deep and melodious voice. Yes Bilbo could tell you many things about Thorin Oakensheild... if his heart didn't shatter and tears fall from his eyes at the mention of his name.

Not that anyone but himself mentioned any of his dwarrows because that is what they were and are. They are his dear sweet dwarrows. Some days he wished he had the courage to leave The Shire and go on the long journey to Erebor to see if maybe his dwarrows are there. Fanciful thinking but he is a dreamer pure and true. He sighs again and closes out of the document; shutting down his computer he leaves the room. So much is the same as his dreams. He lives in a home called Bag End at the end of Bag Shot Row in the town of The Shire which resided in the county of Hobbiton. His mother was named Belladonna Took until she married his father and became Belladonna Baggins, his father was named Bungo Baggins and he built Bag End for his mother. He has a lovely Brandybuck cousin named Primula who is married his cousin Drogo Baggins and they have a darling child named Frodo. There is a town called Rivendell and Mirkwood and Erebor there is even a town called Dale! Hell the people of The Shire and other places in Hobbition are mostly called Hobbits, they don't eat seven meals a day of course, but they are rather short and their feet are rather hairy. There are Elves who can get to be pretty tall and have pointed ears that Hobbits share with them. Dwarrows inhabit the mountains and have great beards... The only races besides Wargs, giant eagles and dragons that thankfully don't exist are Orcs and Goblins.

And so in his heart Bilbo wishes that his dwarrows and his wizard live out there. That maybe they dreamed the same dreams as him, he doubted it but he hopes. He knows it's selfish to wish that there is a Thorin out there dreaming of him as he often dreams of Thorin however that doesn't stop him from looking out his window and wishing with every fiber of his being to one day hear a knock on his door, for him to open said door and see an almost glaring dwarf or smiling dwarrows or have a whole group of them fall into his home and 'at your service' him. No matter how he wishes he knows the truth, his dreams are just that, dreams. They will never come true. So it is quite the surprise that right before he reaches the door that someone knocks on it. He opens it slowly, no one ever visited him.

"Mister Bilbo?"


	8. Where are you my Golden Lion

The wind blows softly carrying away the smell of death and blood. The sky is deceitfully blue with the sun shining down yet today is not a happy day. Today is a day of many deaths, Men, Dwarf and Elf alike lay dead side by side weapons drawn against a common enemy, two enemies. A lone dwarf male stumbles holding his stomach looking for something, someone, in the midst of the carnage. His brown hair is frayed and his eyes _I love your eyes Kee, so brown, so rich.__.._dart around looking for a flash of gold. For any sign. Crimson drips from his fingers but he refuses to see a healer, he has to find him, he has to. All around him he hears the sounds of the Men gathering their dead. They are loud in their grief crying out painfully whenever they stumble across a loved one. He hears the soft, held back crying of his fellow dwarrows. When they are alone and not in the view of others their pain will be louder. If it were not for his eyes dashing everywhere he would not have even known the elves where still here gathering their dead. They move silently, their faces giving nothing away but he can see it in their eyes that they are hurting just as much. He sees an Elf fall to his knees and brings another into his arms, soft cries flowing from his mouth and his heart lightens a fraction when the held Elf reacts. A shaky arm reaching up and grabbing hold.

He's lost track of time when he finally sees the spark of gold. His steps are fast and agile as he dodges the corpse of orcs and goblins littering his way like debris washed in from a storm and he falls to his knees beside the one he's been looking for. Harsh rattled breathes escape a battered chest, a face so beautiful and young is covered in bruises but what scares him the most is the blood pooling underneath the remnants of a right arm. Blue eyes gaze up at him feverishly, one bloodshot and milky in fact that whole side of his face is red with blood and bruised beyond recognition. Fine gold hair is matted and blood soaked but a smile lights the weary face.

"Kee... We won."

Kíli smiles slightly as he lifts his older brother up wincing at the hacking coughs the action causes.

"Aye we did."

"Kíli... I... I'm having a hard time seeing and I can't feel my legs..."

He bites back a sob hiding his face in Fíli's hair. His big brother sounds so lost, so unsure.

"It'll be alright Fíli, I promise. I just need to get you to a healer," he whispers softly. Fïli whines slightly when he starts to move away but it turns to an all-out gasp of pain when Kíli lifts up him. His stomach protests the action, harsh throbbing reminding him that he too his injured but Kíli pays it no mind, just as he pays the blood pouring from a wound on his brothers back no mind. His mind focuses in on getting Fíli to Óin. Óin who has always healed all their hurts. He kisses Fíli's forehead as he walks calling out for a healer as he goes, he wants Óin but he will settle for anyone to ensure the survival of his One. In his arms Fíli softly tells him what all happened. Of him being cornered by a warg that took his arm, of the cruel slash to his back that brought him to his knees, of the rolling brawl he had gotten into with a goblin and nearly lost because of the absence of his predominate arm.

"We've won. We've taken back Erebor Kee."

Kíli hates how far way his brothers voice sounds, hates how cold the normally warm skin is getting but most of all he hates that he can find no healers.

"Kee I'm cold."

"It'll be alright Fee. I've got you. We're almost to the tents. Just hold on okay?"

"M'kay... Kee... I'mma gonna go to sleep for a bit... We... We did Unca proud right?"

Tears are making their way freely down Kíli's face and he's sure his voice cracks when he answers.

"Aye..." he can't force more words out of his constricting throat. He's so scared to look down, so scared of seeing his One, his big brother, the one who keeps him safe, not breathing in his arms. Fíli grows lighter yet heavier in his arms and part of Kíli's soul dies. It feels as if he is in a room where the furnace or fireplace has suddenly gone out and all he has left is the residual heat left over. His knees give out and if it wasn't for the sturdy arms that catch him he would have fallen. Fallen and never gotten back up, if he had fallen then he would have curled protectively around his brother and followed him past that shadowy gate. But fate isn't with his this day as the arms holding him are strong, strong and willowy identifying their own as Elf. He sobs and screams and when they try to take Fíli away from him he fights like wolf or bear protecting its young. He snarls and bites and hits, his eyes distant and unseeing. Friends become foes and family strangers until soft, lilting, musical words are whispered into his ears and he falls into a black sleep. A sleep where he gains no rest but is unaware of the world around him.

In his sleep he dreams of Fíli. Of all the happy times he had with his blond lion, of the sad times. Of the times they had laid in bed worshiping each other. Of the soft noises he would coax out of his brother, of the way sky blue eyes, more beautiful than all the sapphires in the world, would darken. He remembers the times when his brother held him because his fear of the dark became too strong, when he held his brother when the cold became too much for his body, he could handle and physical attack on his body but extremes in weather were his downfall. He dreams of Fíli sitting in-between his legs braiding a strip of his hair, whispering promises as a certain bead is braided in. of the look of pure delight on Fíli's face when he does the same. _You are mine now Fee. I know I want to be... You're mine right Kee?_ It always amazes him how uncertain his older brother is when it came to matters of the heart. He feared he would disappoint him, their Uncle their mother. Feared they would stop loving him. He cries out for his brother when his dreams go black, begging him to come back. _You can't leave me big brother! Please don't leave me alone! I need you!__** Don't cry Kee. Everything will be alright.  
**_

And with that he woke soundlessly. He stares listlessly at the ceiling of his tent trying to will his sluggish body to react, to do something, anything. His eyes dart about and land on the hunched and bandaged body of his Uncle. His Uncle who is holding onto his hand as if he is the last treasure in the vaults and he feels so very empty. A groan escapes his lips and Thorin jolts up as if he is struck by lightning. Blue eyes so much like Fíli's land on him and he has to force back a cry, the defeated look in his Uncle's eyes and the empty feeling in his chest telling him all he needs to know.

"I'm so sorry," he hears Thorin whisper brokenly "I've failed you. You and your brother."

The days afterward are a blur and he moves as if he is a puppet being dragged through water. His heart rarely seems to beat and his smiles aren't real. There were other losses, from the Company even, he tries to care but he can't. He can't handle any more pain so he pretends to notice the absence of his favorite Scribe, pretends he can still hear the crude humor and see the funny humor of the first dwarf outside of family to accept him and Fíli. As the days turns to weeks he can't understand how everything will be alright because it's not! It's not alright that he is gone, that his heart is gone and Aüle damn it he wanted his Fíli! His screams of pain can be heard at night and he hates the pitying looks that other dwarrow's give him. They aren't the ones who fought beside him they are ones who stayed safe in their home ignorant of what he went through. Fíli would scold him for thinking such thoughts.

Then one day Bilbo comes back from a visit from the Shire and in his arms is a little Fauntling whose blue eyes have seen too much for someone his size. He starts spending all the time he can with little Frodo. Comes to love the shy little smiles he can pull from the little one. Slowly things start to feel normal. If he sits still with Frodo on his lap as he tells the story of how they got the mountain back it almost feels as if his chest is full of flames again. His smiles become real and laughs easier and at night he thinks just maybe everything will be alright.

After all the pain he has endured surely he won't be expected to endure more... Right?


	9. Bilbo's Faunts

The young hobbit's gather around their favorite uncle as sits in front of his fireplace. Smoke curls around his head when he puffs softly on his pipe. He fingers his wrist, eyes far away from his Smial. The youngest Faunt touches his knee bringing him back to the present.

"Where was I? Oh yes, Soulmarks… As you know for each race they are on different parts of the body. For us they are on our wrists, for humans their throats, elves have them upon their cheeks and dwarrows… dwarrows Marks are on their hearts."

"What about Orcs and Goblins?" the youngest asks his eyes blazing with curiosity. Bilbo chuckles softly; shaking his head at the question.

"I don't know Pippin. I've never taken time to ask them but I imagine they are somewhere where we can't see them… Now Marks are tricky little things, do you know why?"

The Faunts bite their lips before one with black hair and piercing blue eyes speaks up.

"Cause not everybody has a Mark."

"That's right Frodo. Some people are born without Marks but that doesn't mean that they are destined to be alone," Bilbo hums as he thinks about his own parents Belladonna and Bungo Baggins neither one of them had a Mark but they loved each other deeply. He notices the yawns escaping his young charges and he stands.

"Now dear children, I do believe it is time to move this into the bedroom."

The Faunts whine softly but after getting assurances that he would tell them a story from his Adventure they file into the bedroom; all four of them lying down on the bed. Bilbo kisses each of their foreheads before sitting down in a chair catty-corner to the bed.

"Now which story do you want?"

He gets calls for the troll story, the stone giant story and from little Merry the call for any story with fighting. With a smile he launches into the Troll story for it had gotten two votes plus had fighting in it. He waves his hands around for emphasis on certain parts, pitching his voice lower for the trolls. The young Faunts giggle and are enthralled with his story and soon fall asleep. With one final peck on the youngsters foreheads Bilbo starts to leave the room.

"Uncle Bilbo?"

"Yes Frodo?"

"Have you ever met your Soulmark?"

Bilbo sighs softly, eyes clouding with scabbed over pain.

"Once upon a time a long, long time ago Frodo my boy, a long, long time ago."

Frodo makes a soft 'oh' noise before settling down and Bilbo leaves the room. Yes once upon a time long, long ago Bilbo met his Soulmark; his Soulmark with long black hair and blue eyes who looks so much like his nephew that occasionally it hurt to look at him. Met him, loved him and lost him. All on a quest that brought thirteen dwarrows to his door, that took him to a Lonely Mountain. He glances down at his wrist and bites back a sob knowing that the round shield with a single oak tree is still there underneath the bracelet he wears. It's taunting him with the fact that his lover is still alive but wants nothing to do with him.

Bilbo can still see the battle when he closes his eyes. He sees the cloudless sky, the orcs and goblins charging, the elven archers preparing to fire, the human warrior's eyes hallow from the loss of their home yet hard with determination to beat their new foe and he sees the dwarrows. For it is the dwarrows that he is even on the battlefield; thirteen, stubborn, loyal, funny, lovable, messy dwarrows that he _will_ protect to the best of his ability. When he closes his eyes he can feel the slight weight of the mithril shirt Thorin gave him, he can feel his sweat pouring down his face, the sting of small cuts and bruises forming. He can feel the burning of his muscles and the warm splash of blood upon his face. He can hear the screams, the shouts and the clash of weapons. He can smell everything from the copper of blood to the stench of bodies starting to turn out in the sun. Hell he can even taste the battle, as vivid and as horrid as the day it happened all those years ago.

Not that it matters anymore. He was turned away, cast aside with a parting lie that hurts him badly.

_King Thorin is dead._

They even said that the boys, dear sweet Fíli and Kíli had died… He only knows that they lied about Thorin for he still has his Mark. A Mark that hasn't faded one bit as is the fashion of Hobbit Soulmarks. With Elves they vanish the moment one half of the pair dies for an elf isn't long in this world after their Other has died. Men's fade to where you can barely see it but it's still there. Hobbit's… Hobbit's fade away as does the remaining half of the Soul until the Mark is gone and the Hobbit has joined the other in the afterlife. He isn't sure about what happens to dwarrow Marks.

With a soft sigh he doses the fire in the fireplace, empties his pipe and heads to his bed. He kneels next to it and sends a quick prayer up to Yavanna and Mahal that Thorin is safe and happy, that the boys are alive, that the company, his Family, suffered no loses then he climbs in and curls around his pillow. Eyes scrunched shut he can almost pretend that it is the soft fur of Thorin's coat that he is cuddling. That the blankets covering him arm Thorin's arms hugging him… Almost.

* * *

He wakes as he normally does; surrounded by four Fauntlings. Pippin has wormed his way into his arms, Frodo is lying on top of Pippin one small arm gripping his, Merry is curled up behind his knees and dear Sam is lying close to his back. He chuckles and slowly maneuvers his way out of the faunt pile. With a simple stretch he goes into the kitchen intent on making a yummy breakfast, after all growing boys need all seven of their meals a day eve if he hasn't been able to stomach four than four. He hums a tune, a tune that would stop any poor Hobbit's heart, what with the very idea of blunting knives or burning corks, as he cooks. His small charges wonder in following their noses like young ones should. They beg for the words of the song and he's never been one to deny them something so simple, so he sings the song and laughs at Sam's face and at how his darling nephew pats his shoulder gently. Smiling gaily he sends them off to play.


	10. Past Dreams

_Frantically his eyes search the surging bodies for three that his heart holds dear. He had to get to them, had to keep them safe. His love and his two children. He curses Man as he slices one down, eyes finally landing on a familiar blond head. A smile graces his lips as he watches his oldest child protect the younger. They are doing well and it eases his heart as much as it can be when in the middle of a battle. A fierce war cry draws his eyes to his love, strong and determined to protect his home, his Heart, his children. Bilbis fights his way toward Thorim hazel eyes dark with determination that quickly turns to panic when he sees a Man knock his husband down. A cry escapes his lips, his children Fílik and Kílik turning in unison, their own cries echoing his._

_He doesn't quiet know how but soon he is on his back, bleeding, hurting, not far from his husband. His stomach is the epicenter of his pain and he can't move. Can't stretch out a hand to grab a hold of Thorim's. He can't even close his eyes to prevent the image of his children being struck down. Fílik taking a barrage of arrows for his baby brother and Kílik screaming his pain at watching his One and Heart die before taking a spear to his side. Tears trail down his face. He's so close to them all but so far away. Above him the Man who struck him down laughs cruelly, sword gleaming in the fading light._

_As the sword swing down he tries to remember happy things. He sees Thorim shifting slightly as he starts the courtship between the two. He remembers the joy that bloomed on his Thorim's face when it was declared that he was with child, a child who would be named after his uncle. He remembers to the look of Wonder on Fílik's face as he stroked his mother's belly._

_ "My brother is in there, Mama?" he asked in the blessed mixture of Khadzul ans Shirlect. He remembers laughing happily and saying that yes his little brother is in there. He remembers being so happy that after a risky pregnancy that Kílik was born safely._

_ So blissfully lost in his memories he doesn't feel the sting of metal cutting his neck._

Bilbo jolts up, a cry bubbling up from his lips and hand flying to his throat. He looks around the camp, his heart settling when he sees Thorin and his nephews. The heart wrenching dream he had is already fading away. He settles down, eyes closing, heart lulling back to the steady beat of one asleep. With a soft sigh he succumbs to the call of sleep. He doesn't see the yearning, older than they should be eyes drilling into his body.

* * *

**AN: Please remember if you want a sequel to one of these shorts you MUST comment and say so. Thanks.**


	11. Worth The Cost

He stumbles, side bleeding heavily, arm a useless dead weight, blurry vision around the battlefield. Each breath he took hurt, felt as if he breathed in dragon fire instead of air, each step brought him one step closer to collapsing but he had to find them. He had to make sure his cousins were okay. His mind jumbled he pays no heed to the young red haired Ri brother clinging to a weary Dwalin, to the silver haired Ri being held by Balin, he only wants his kin. When he stumbles across Óin he feels sympathy for the older dwarf, Glóin is missing amongst the bodies. His eyes sweep over the limp and lifeless Fíli and Kíli, together even in death protecting their dear uncle who seems so close to death. But on he searches, he needs to see flaming red hair and that funny hat. He needs to feel soft hands on his and feel work harden hands helping him carve. He to hear soothing words and that bouncing laugh. His kin, that is what he needs and he cannot stop until he finds them.

Resting he sees to figures approaching him, his heart lightens at the sight of flaming red hair. Soon soft words are whispered, _ Are you alright? You're not too hurt are you? Have you been to a healer? I'm perfectly fine for having survived a battle Bifur... Where's Bofur?_ and his heart is racing again, he's found one but the other is still missing. He bids Bombur and Glóin well, assuring his youngest cousin that he will see Óin after he's found Bofur, and sets of again. He senses eyes watching his staggered movement and soon he has a Man and Elf on each side. Their eyes are grim as they help him look, never looking for kin of their own which makes his addled mind sad. They stop when he does, looks of concern etched on their face when he doesn't start moving again. In front of him holding a hat he knows well is Nori, the thiefs eyes are red rimmed and desperate as they land on him.

"Bifur! Have you seen Bofur?"

Bofur would never have left his hat on the ground. Never, it's an heirloom from his father. Bifur's heart stutters and he shakes his head. Nori curses and together they renew their search. They needed to find Bofur. It feels like hours of searching when they find him, he's pushed himself up against a boulder, hand clamped over his hip and arrows in his arms and chest but he's breathing. He's breathing and that's all that matters to Bifur who grabs him gently, his two guards helping him rush his cousin to a healer. It doesn't look good for him, the arrows had poison on them but he's alive.

Bifur sits at Bofur's side, Bombur and Nori are on the other side. They are waiting for those brown eyes to open. They've reclaimed Erebor but was it worth the cost?


	12. Jealous? Me? Never!

Nori is in no way, shape or form jealous of the Human archer who has his arm wrapped around a certain toy maker. Nope, not at all. Not even when Bard says something that makes Bofur laugh. His eyes don't narrow when Bard leans down to speak, his fists don't clench whenever Bofur laughs or smiles or touches the Human. This is not Nori being jealous, and why would he be jealous really? Dwalin chuckles at Nori who flips him off. Watching the thief get more agitated as Bard and Bofur get closer is amusing. He knew the two were just friends and he wasn't about to tell Nori that. Watching the thief fight his attraction and anger is way too fun. Nori grunts angrily when Bard and Bofur lean in together.

"I once knew a fair maiden  
Who worked in a tavern  
She had hair of spun gold  
And eyes like Sapphires!  
She kissed me and loved  
Me the whole night through  
But when morning came  
She was nowhere to be  
Found!"

The sweet low timber of Bofur mixes with Bard's voice. The band catches the tune and begins to play along. With a smile Bofur stands, bows and dances as he sings. Bard laughs clapping his hands, eyes following Bofur's dancing form. Nori feels a flash of red hot emotion when Bofur pulls Bard up to dance with him.

"Oh! I once knew a fair maiden  
Who worked in a tavern  
Her muscles hard  
And her hands soft  
She kissed me and loved  
Me the whole night through  
But when the morning came  
She was nowhere to be  
Found!"

They twirled around laughing merrily, faces red with laughter. People gather around them, clapping and stomping their feet. Nori watches as Bard reaches out and ruffles the hat on top of Bofur's head. Nori stands anger finally winning out. Stalking over to Bofur he joins in on the last chorus.

"So pour me another round  
For she's nowhere to be found  
She's a like a siren  
In the mountain Deep!"

Bofur glances over at Nori and smiles even wider. His anger soothes out and he smirks over at Bard.

"Hey Bofur why don't you join us back over at the table?"

"Sure. Seeya Bard."


	13. The Shire Burns

The Orc before him smiles viciously; the Shire is burning casting an ominous glow. Though the hobbits outnumber the Orcs, they don't know how to fight. So with only the Bounders himself, Bilbo fights to give his friends and family a chance, a chance that comes too late for some. Behind him three fauntlings whimper, grasping at each other in hopes of comfort. The fourth, in the middle of the fauntling huddle, stares ahead his mind numb and face slack. He had watched as his mother, father and siblings were murdered in front of him. Bilbo dares not take a chance to look behind him, to try and comfort the young ones; he knows that the moment he takes his eyes off of the Orc in front of him it will attack. Instead he tightens his grip on his sword. Foul words spill from the Orc's mouth, he seems proud of something, though Bilbo knows not what. With a smirk the Orc charges and Bilbo meets him halfway, Sting moving far more gracefully in his hands than it has ever done before.

Panting Bilbo pulls Sting from the now dead Orc; he turns hazel eyes taking in his dear fauntlings. Thankfully they are unharmed physically. He does not know what damage has been done mentally only that he hopes they will be able to overcome it. With a wince he walks over to them.

"Are you alright, little ones?"

With wide eyes the fauntlings tackle hug him, gripping tightly. He pats their heads, whispering soothing words, blatantly ignoring the pain shooting to him with each twitch of the little ones.

"Are we gonna be okay now Uncle Bilbo?" asks a small faunt with curly black hair and blue eyes.

"Why did they attack us?" questions the smallest one at the same time.

"Can you teach me how to fight like that!?" a fauntling with blond hair and blue eyes yells over the others.

"What's gonna happen to me now Mister Bilbo?"

"I hope so Frodo, I truly hope we're going to be okay. I don't know why they attacked us Pippin. You'll have to ask your parents first Merry…" he is able to answer the first three questions easily and without hesitation, like he does when they ask about his Adventure, but when Sam asks his question, low and soft clutching at him tightly. It's very rare for fauntlings to become orphans after all. His mind reminds him of a time right after his coming of age that he quickly shuts out.

"If they will let me, Samwise, I want you to stay with me."

Sam gives him a weak smile, lightening Bilbo's heart and he takes a deep breath trying to figure out what to do. The Bounders told the fleeing hobbits to run to Bree… Maybe the other little ones families are there.

"Come little ones, let's go on an Adventure to Bree."


	14. Hurt

It's been nearly ten years since that day, that day that he lost the one he loved most. No tears fall down his face as he remembers, remembers as if it was yesterday. The gold had glittered so beautifully, bringing him in with a false sense of happiness, lulling him in to complacency. He had _his_ gold what more… the Arkenstone, that's what he had needed even more than the gold. Bilbo had been there, his face showing all the tells that he was uncomfortable, that he didn't understand but would weather what was happening because he loved Thorin. He had taken Thorin's hand into his own, hazel eyes bright with love.

"I'm so proud of you," he had whispered so sweetly going on to talk about how they could rebuild Erebor, rebuild Dale with all the gold in the treasury.

With disgust of the one he claimed to love, how could he love a being who didn't understand the importance of _gold_. Oh Mahal, if only, if only he knew what he knew today back then!

Thorin's hands shake as leaves the balcony he was standing on to retreat into his room. If he had known, he would have swept Bilbo into his arms. He would have kissed him deeply, soundly, ridding _his_ Burglar of any doubt he may of possessed. For it didn't matter how many times Bilbo had saved them, loved them despite their crude behavior, tolerated their insensitivity Thorin knew that Bilbo hadn't felt like one of them. Oh Mahal, what he wouldn't do for one more chance to sweep Bilbo into another hug and thank him for being there; for not giving up on them and turning away. He would have forgiven Bilbo of any imagined faults.

He buries his head into his hands and sobs dryly, his shoulders hitching in his moment of unkingly behavior. Desperately he wants to hear Bilbo's voice, even if it is just him scolding the dwarves. He wants to call out for him, scream his name to the skies in hopes of their Burglar answering… But he won't. Not anymore and never again. Thorin knows this but he doesn't want to admit on days like this. Days that have meaning, the anniversary of the Battle of Five Armies, Durin's Day, the day they arrived at Boern's… days like these are days he just wants to be alone.

He looks up, his eyes red, heart long ast broken.

"I'm so sorry for blaming you," he sobs softly. The horrid hindsight of hurting Bilbo, he hurt himself as well. He threatened his One, gold sickness be damned, he isn't worthy of his title but Fíli is still too young, too innocent for the throne. Taking it now will ruin him and Thorin won't let that happen.

The door opens and his nephews enter his room, they curl around him, to comfort him and for comfort. Some days they can pretend they aren't broken. They can go about smiling and laughing. Then they break down and Thorin is left to pick of the pieces, he has to keep them together as he struggles to keep himself together. Sometimes it's too much for him and he runs into his room. Runs like the coward he really is and locks the door. The void left in his heart is too much to bear, he doesn't want to say goodbye. Doesn't want to leave the lie of, he'll come back one day.

Later, when he manages to escape his nephews, his sister, and everyone else who knows how much pain he really is in, he wanders out of the mountain. Down to an Elf made glade with a single oak tree stretching its limbs up into the sky. He sits down in front of the marble statue with copper hair and sard eyes ignoring the dirt and the grass that will surely leave stains. They buried their Burglar here, out in the open beneath the oak tree. Figured he would like this more than the impersonal catacombs under the mountain. He smiles at the amount of flowers left in front of the statue taking one in his hands, he tells Bilbo everything he has missed, he asks him questions.

"Am I still doing wrong? Why aren't you here to help me understand this? Do you watch me; are you looking down wherever you are? Are you proud of who I have become?"

He would give anything for just one more chance. To be able to see clear hazel eyes staring into his own eyes. Love, adoration, irritation, Aule and Yavanna combined there's nothing he wouldn't give to see any emotion shining in eyes long closed!  
It's his own fault that Bilbo is gone. The gold sickness that he swore he would never allow take hold of him sank its dirty claws into him deeper than he ever though imaginable, and because he was unable to fight it to not fall to it… He blamed, accused Bilbo for so much while under its spell…

If he had just one more day, there's so much he would do. He would thank him, hug him, kiss him… If Thorin had just one more day with Bilbo he would tell him just how horrible it is to be without him, how he misses him so very much. Just one day… but that's a lie, he wouldn't be satisfied with just one more day.

When he closes his eyes he imagines the battle, imagines what he could have done to spare his Burglar. There are so many things that could have changed but according to Óin it would have ended with his and his nephew's death.

_"He saved your lives Thorin. When you and the boys went down, he attacked Azog… He didn't make it laddie… I'm so sorry."_

Tears finally fall down his face. Bilbo had given his life for the one who threatened to have him killed. For as long as he lives he will never understand why… It's dangerous to play with time he knows but that doesn't stop him from wishing just maybe Bilbo could save his nephews but leave him, the true betrayer to die. Foolish he knows, Bilbo would never allow him to die. Even know that he is gone Bilbo keeps him alive through the happy memories. Standing he kisses the statue of Bilbo's forehead lovingly.

"Until next time my love," he whispers turning back to mountain. He doesn't see the single drop of his own tears trailing down the marble face making it look as if the statue is crying.

_Here lies the brave Hobbit of Erebor who gave his life for his loved ones. May his Sacrifice be an example to all, Men, Dwarves, Elves, Wizards of how deep love can go. Bilbo Baggins you may be gone but you will never be forgotten._


	15. So many Omega's

In dwarrow culture Omega's or males who can bear children are just as rare if not more so than women. The dwarrows covet and protect their Omega's just as they do their women and children, much to the Omega male's chagrin. So the Omega male hides his status, just because they can have children doesn't mean they are neither fragile nor do they want to be taken advantage of. Other than Omega's there are some dwarrows who can just tell when another is Omega, they are in fact drawn to them, normally by scent. They are called Alpha's and they outnumber Omega's and normal dwarrows.

So you can imagine the shock that Alpha Thorin Oakenshield Durin felt when he stepped into Hobbiton and was assaulted by the scent of Omega's. It is only with the extreme control his grandfather and father beat into his head that he doesn't acquire a very embarrassing problem right then and there. Hobbits you see are the opposite of Dwarrows, for them all males can bear children; they are a very fertile race after all, so Alpha's are rare for them. Thorin's anger at being tricked by the wizard grows as he loses his way not once but twice! He follows the map that Gandalf gave him to the letter, trying his damnedest to ignore the pleasant scents that kept tickling his nose, but he still ends up lost. And to make things worse, any Halflings he meet fled before he could ask them for directions! When he finally finds the door marked with the dwarrow rune for 'Burglar' he lets out an internal sigh of relief.

The door opens and he can faintly smell an Alpha which makes his hackles rise slightly before he noticed that the scent is almost masked by the scent of the Omega in front of him. The Omega with lovely curly copper curls and dazzling hazel… No! Bad Thorin, he is not pretty, he does not rival any precious metal! In fact "He looks more like a grocer than a Burglar."

"Excuse me!" the Halfling squeaks and Thorin in no way compares the Halflings voice to a bird. Then he blinks, oh Mahal… he didn't say that out loud, did he? And the meeting goes downhill from there ending with the "Burglar" fainting on them. With a tired sigh Thorin rubs his eyes, they were to take on Smaug with just thirteen dwarrows, two of which are most assuredly Omega's… Mahal have mercy on them.

* * *

**AN:**

**Just a friendly reminder that comments make me feel loved and help me write. I kid you not. On one of my fic's I got a lot of comments saying they wanted more and it made me so happy that I was able to crank out two chapters!.**


	16. Bofur's Dad

Tomfur smiles as he kisses his sons head. They are staring up at him, love in their young eyes. It hurts him to leave them so soon after their mother passing. Níli had never been the healthiest dwarrow but her sudden passing… He shakes his head as he bends down to look Bofur in the eyes.

"It'll be alright Bofur. Ye take care of Bombur while I'm in the mines alright? Maybe carve me a few things. I know yer cousin is teachin ya how to," he says clunking their foreheads together. Bofur smiles widely and nods his head.

"Course Pa! Don't ya worry! I got Bom takin care of."

Tomfur tilts his head at his dwarflings and heads toward the mines. Bofur looks so much like Níli, brown hair done in braids stunning brown eyes. And now he's mastered her smile, any dwarrow he decides to court won't stand a chance just like he never stood a chance when Níli decided she wanted him. After a long day's work he comes home. The kitchen's a mess and the windowsill is covered in wood chips. He heaves a sigh smiling as he cleans up the house, surprised yet not when he finds a bowl just for him. After the house is back in working order he sneaks into the boy's room, kissing their foreheads before going to bed.

It becomes almost routine for him to be back into the mines and Bofur watching over his brother. Tomfur sighs as he mines, it's monotonous work but it pays well… Well compared to so many other things he could be doing. His back aches as does his arms but just the thought of his youngest his Bombur smiling up at him as he holds up his newest cooking creation, just the thought of Bofur joking and holding out a new carving, washes away the pain. So he focuses on those thoughts. Then he feels the earth start to rumble, he hears the creaking. With panic he calls the code and starts ushering his fellow miners toward the entrance. Behind them rocks are falling, a cave in dear Mahal a cave in. Vorn, a new father falls and Tomfur stops to help him up. His gut lurches and he shoves Vorn, his hat safely in the youngers hands… how many lunch breaks had he bored his coworkers with the tale of how Níli placed that hat upon his head when she declared that she was going to court him, in front of him right as the ground beneath him opens. He falls, landing hard on his back, rocks falling on top of him. Wheezing he looks up, his mind already hazy with the pain. What would happen to his children if he passes? Bofur isn't past the age of maturity yet. It hurts to breathe, oh Mahal, oh Aule, it hurts… Will Bombur wait up for him to come home or will Vorn tell them what happened… will his youngest understand…? Will Bofur be able to handle another loss? Time crawls by slowly and it becomes harder to breath, his thoughts bouncing around spastically.

_"Oh Tomfur…"_

"Níli?"

_"It's going to be fine."_

Tomfur smiles sleepily and closes his eyes one last time. It takes almost seven hours for them to retrieve Tomfur from the mines. Vorn clutches the hat to his chest as he makes his way to his mentor's home. His beloved hat in his hands, he isn't sure how he got this job, he doesn't want it. He doesn't want to be the one to tell the little ones… He takes a shuddery breath as he knocks on the door. When the door is opened by Bombur he kneels hating whoever decided he needed to be the one to deliver the news. He holds out the hat that Bombur takes without speaking, brown eyes tearing up.

"No… no Papa isn't…. No!" the little one sobs backing away, Bofur rushes up his face hard. Vorn takes his hand leading him into the home as he explains, as child friendly as he can, what has happened. He's shocked when instead of breaking down like Bombur has Bofur smiles tightly and thanks him for coming. He leaves confused not knowing the moment he closes the door that Bofur cries softly, just for a few minutes before rushing to take care of his brother. Vorn just heads home, gathers his wife and child into his arms and cries.


	17. World Goes Black

Bifur hums softly as he pets his cousin's hair. It's soft, always so soft like the eagles feathers that saved them from the orcs so many years ago… Or was it only a few years ago? Time feels the same to him, always has since he got the axe imbedded in his head. Brown eyes look down, distant, hazey and full of love he hums a lullaby for his cousin. The fur hat damp and sticky is laid aside as his fingers card through the brown silken strands. He holds Bofur to him, rocking slowly, humming softly keeping the cold air off of his cousin. Long ago when his aunt was first getting sick he made a promise to her, to Tomfur, to watch over the boys. And as time went by he tried to do so, Ionu didn't care that he went over to their house often, not even when the children were born. She cared for them as her own when Tomfur died leaving them alone. Not even the axe in his head stopped him… Sure he had episodes but he apologized and they accepted them. He stops rocking to kiss Bofur's forehead, ignoring the wet drops falling from his eyes.

Bombur has a wife of his own and sixteen children. He's doing so well, the kings personal chef in fact. But him and Bofur, they got restless; the mountains seemed to close in on them. What with Bofur's One rejecting him and Bifur needed to be out in the open again. Bombur had begged them to stay, that it wouldn't be bad always. That Bofur's stupid One would come around. They should have stayed, Bifur realizes too late. They should have stayed in Erebor where it was safe. Where there were greater numbers. Orcs and goblins hold longer grudges than even dwarrows. A soft keen escapes his lips as he hugs Bofur tight to him. He should have made Bofur stay with Bombur, he should have refused to go with Bofur, he should have done something!

All around him are corpses, dwarrow and orc alike. They were ambushed, attacked from the rear, outnumbered. He lost sight of Bofur for a second, only a second that shouldn't be long enough for anything to happen. Then he saw it, he saw it and his mind went blank. Just like it went blank in the last battle before he got the axe. Everything is fuzzy now but he knows he's supposed to keep his cousins safe. They always looked up to him as if he was a hero, always ran to him when they needed help. His humming stops, his rocking stops, his petting stops and he stares a head tears streaming down his face. He's failed. He's failed them like he failed Ionu. He's failed Níli and Tomfur. He's failed Bombur… He's failed Bofur.

Some of the dwarrows they were traveling with had turned back, had fled. Bifur didn't know if they had made it to a settlement or if maybe he had been sitting there long enough for the next caravan to come through… time is fuzzy, everything is fuzzy but it doesn't matter because he's failed yet again. He hears the anguished cry of one who sees their lover dead and tightens his grip on Bofur. He won't let anyone take his cousin away! Soon there are soft hands touching his face, the pads of the fingers barely calloused. A young voice speaks and he can vaguely make out red hair. Bombur has red hair… no Bombur can't be here! The soft voice whispers soft words into his ears calming him. His youngest cousin is safe but they need to move. It isn't safe out in the open. So he moves, remembering to pick up Bofur's hat, the hat he had wanted to give his One.

He hears the anguished cry again, his eyes daring around to land on a familiar head. He doesn't like his cousin's One. To flighty, he had told Bofur but Bofur still loved him. So still clutching his cousin, so cold, so heavy, so hard to hold, he leans over and puts it on his head.

_'Family.'_ he says softly then the world goes black.


	18. Lullaby

Bofur hums softly, his eyes closed as he sways, an old lullaby forming as he cares for his youngest nephew. The child whines slightly pulling one of Bofur's braids to his mouth to suck on. A smile graces Bofur's lips and he chuckles.

"Yer just like yer father, always stickin things in yer mouth," he whispers softly, love blazing in his brown eyes as he gently takes his braid out of his nephew's mouth. The baby coos reminding him of a time long ago when he would just sit and sing.

"Hum little lee, Hum little lie

Lay yer head down

Sleepy one.

Hum little lee, Hum little lie

Let yer tears dry

Sleepy one.

Hum little lee, Hum little lie

I'm here to protect you

Sleepy one," he sings softly just as he did for Bombur when they were little, both parents away at work. Turning around he sees three more of his nieces and nephews and a smile lights his face. Softly they call out to him, asking him to come into the bedroom and sing to them too. So he follows them, puts the little one, already asleep, in his crib. He sits down in the rocking chair Bifur carved for Bombur and Nurra and the little ones clamber into his lap. The other children, woken by the children awake, stare sleepy eyed at him, as he sings the soft soothing melody passed down through the family.

Bombur smiles as he looks at his brother, Nurra chuckles as she enters the room to unbury her brother-in-law. Bofur is fast asleep, snoring, his hat tilted, in the rocking chair. Three of their children, soon placed into their bed, are drooling on his lap, little hands, delicately unclenched, clinging to his shirt.

"We need to get Bofur to babysit more often," Nurra whispers as they leave the room, a spare throw blanket placed on Bofur's lap.


	19. Lindir

Lindir knows that his love is fruitless and will never be returned; he knows this but it does not stop it. The knowledge doesn't stop his heart from beating like a drum in the deep that surely can be heard by any Elf with sharp hearing which is, truthfully, all of them. The knowledge does not stop his face from flushing or keep him from beaming at any kind word his love speaks to him. Lindir knows better than most what is like to love someone who is love with another, to be in love with a person whose soul is already twisted and intertwined with another that they will never have room for another. So he settles for watching and waiting and just being there for the man he loves. Just trying to help ease the loss, to help raise three children who watch him with cold and knowing eyes. He isn't surprised when the twins pull him aside and threaten to harm him, when they promise that they can make it look like an Orc got a hold of him. He isn't surprised when the youngest gives him a cold smile and says there are more than one way to kill a person and not all deaths have to be bloody. He smiles each time, serenely and calmly, telling them that they have nothing to worry about, that his feelings will never be acted upon; after all, all he is a lowly minstrel and steward, not worthy of his love even if he wasn't in love with another.

The youngest had looked at him with sad eyes when he told her that and she speaks gently, as if she hadn't just been threatening his life. She asks him with those gray eyes that are filled with too much pain for one so young; if he truly feels that way that he is unworthy just because of his station. He answers her with a tight lipped smile, the only answer needed really, before he excuses himself and walks away. He watches the man he loves, singing when his Lord Elrond asks him to and wishes he could have taken Lady Celebrain's place when she was taken by Orc's. Wishes that he could take away that dark look on that perfect face by ensuring that the woman Lord Elrond loved and sired three children with never knew a moment of harm and therefore would still be with her husband and not across the sea in the Undying Lands. Later he will notice that Arwen is quick to defend him when her brothers speak ill of him. He notices that she finds reasons for him to be alone with Lord Elrond and it confuses him. The change in attitude confuses him. Not that the minstrel minded her strange and sudden change of heart. It is nice to have someone to help block out the glares and barely veiled threats of two Elves who loved nothing more than to spill black blood. Lindir knows he would not last a minute outside his home if he did not have an escort, he knew nothing about the finer arts of fighting so those two would have an easy time dispatching him if they so choose too.

So he watches the world, so very content to sing or play by his Lords command and maybe slip in a song or two that he knows the young Lady likes. And if his eyes notice love blossoming between two people… well no one has to know it is him helping them along right? He can feel happiness for others finding love while is will never be… Even if some of the people he helps are _dwarves_ who make a mess of his Lords dining hall, who throw food and complain about what is graciously given, who go _**skinny dipping**_ in a fountain and so many other grievances that it would take an Age to list. Though the dwarf with the funny hat is nice and humorous and the silver haired one was kind enough to keep his odd star headed brother from keeping a hold of a precious item that the sneaky sticky fingered dwarf swiped.


	20. Angel With a Shotgun

Bilbo tightens his grip on the small pistol in his hands. He's not a fighter, oh Yavanna, he is not a fighter. His white feathery wings twitch and he takes a deep breath of stagnate air. No he is not a fight but he won't let his lover fight alone. Thorin stands in front of their army, his already serious face grim, as he delivers a stirring speech. Azog and his followers with their torn and ruined wings have been wreaking havoc on Earth for far too long! He hides a flinch when Thorin says that the Valar have abandoned them to the foul beasts that not even demons allow to live. He flinches because for the most part Thorin is right, the Valar minus his Lady Yavanna and her husband Lord Aule have abandoned Middle Earth. Thorin looks his way and he feels the breath leave his lungs, not the metaphorical way but literally. He loves that Dwarrow, loves Thorin so much that he is willing to… He loves dear Thorin who doesn't know he's an angel of the Lady. It's amazing what a little bit of magic can hide from mortals.

After Thorin gives his speech he walks over to Bilbo cupping his face with one hand. They kiss briefly, full of passion yet still chaste. Cold blue eyes stare into his hazel ones. And in those eyes Bilbo could see everything that makes Thorin, Thorin. He sees the raid on his childhood home, sees the brutal death of his mother. He sees the failed attempt to regain an old home ending in the loss of his grandfather and little brother. He sees his father's decent into madness. He sees all that sadness but he also sees the light. His sister finding love no matter how brief, the birth of his two nephews whom he loves dearly, yes Bilbo can see everything that makes Thorin who he is and sometimes it breaks him. But in times like these he strengthens his resolve.

"You don't have to do this Bilbo." _I don't want to lose you._

"I know." _I can't lose you either._

Thorin nods his head and kisses him again; together they leave the command room. The battle will begin soon, Azog marches toward Erebor finally reclaimed and back in Thorin's hands. Bilbo's stomach rolls when he remembers the shot of happiness he felt when Bolg and Smaug, the two commanders that Azog left to occupy the large mansion, fell down dead. One with a small bullet to the head the other blasted with a shotgun. He will fight, he may not be made for it but for love he will fight. Azog started this war, angry that he and his men were tossed out of heaven and hell curse to wonder Middle Earth. Thorin looks over his shoulder, mouth open to say something but it is cut off when the warning alarm goes off.

What happens next is a blear to Bilbo. A blear of red and fear and pain, he fights not only with his pistol but with the hand to hand combat that Thorin taught him. The only thing he cares about is protecting his new family. He's broken so many of the Lady's rules, just tossed them aside but it's worth it. Then his world stops. Thorin falls in a cloud of red. He screams, not noticing that those around them clutch their ears, fall to the ground and if they are Azog's men do not move again, and surges forward firing rapid and panicked shots. Most miss and those that do hit the pale creature just make him laugh as he stands above Thorin. The creature waits until Bilbo is close enough and moves quicker than anyone has ever seen him move grabs the angel in his clawed hand. Pale silver eyes stare into his and a cruel smile is on Azog's lips.

"Awww Thorin I didn't know you were so desperate that you would seek an Angel's help… And a useless of Yavanna's no less… Poor thing won't be let back into heaven now… Look at his hands, they're stained black… I wonder what his wings look like?" Azog muses, his free hand grabbing one of Bilbo's wings, a lucky guess on Azog's part but it breaks the illusion hiding them from view. Thorin gasps loudly at the sight of ragged white wings that are slowly molting. Azog laughs even louder.

"Pathetic. Did you really think you could stop me Angel? I am a creature of death and destruction. The demons of hell feared me, that is why they tossed me out."

Bilbo spits, a snarl on his face.

"You were tossed from hell because you disobeyed, Melkor hoped that you would get yourself killed. He wasn't scared of a yellow blooded worm like you."

With an angry yell Azog throws Bilbo down, a sick crunch echoing around the three. The taller male stomps on the broken wings, revealing in the resulting crunches before he picks up a discarded weapon.

"You like I, am mortal little angel… And I do love ending the lives of Mortals," he whispers pointing the gun at Bilbo and firing. Thorin screams in rage, his wounds making it impossible to stand. Damn Azog and his love for drawing out his punishment! Bilbo doesn't move and Thorin feels his heart breaking, brokenly calling out to Bilbo ignoring Azog as he stalks over, like a cat about to catch the canary. He drags his eyes away from the still figure to the one in front of him when the clawed hand grabs his chin.

"It's been fun Thorin… Much more fun than I thought it would be."

The clawed hand releases him and Azog throws back his head in laughter which is cut off by a loud bang. There is no slow motion falling or movie perfect looking down at his stomach marveling at the now red area no Azog just falls leaving to stare confused at the empty air. Then there is a small cough and the sound of something being dragged. Bilbo lives, one hand clutching his stomach as he crawls awkwardly toward Thorin. When he reaches him Bilbo collapse and Thorin pulls him closer. Hazel eyes are cloudy and the shotgun used to kill Azog lies forgotten. No words are said between the two lovers as they share one last kiss. Thorin bows his head knowing there is no hope for his smaller lover but he prays that Yavanna forgives Bilbo and lets him back into heaven.  
"Thorin… I…" _I'm sorry that I never told you, I love you, forgive me._

"I know." _There's nothing to forgive, I love you too._

Bilbo takes one last raspy breath, a smile on his faces as hazel eyes close. He had fought until the end.


End file.
